


At Play With the Gods

by St_Salieri



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-17
Updated: 2006-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-series Buffy and Spike face an upcoming apocalypse that has an interesting prophecy attached to it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Play With the Gods

By the time the last vampire was dusted, Buffy was sure that her new pair of formerly-adorable ankle boots was ruined beyond repair.

"Ow! Watch it, you wanker!"

Well, almost the last vampire.

Buffy spun around, cursing the broken heel that caused her ankle to wobble dangerously before she caught her balance. Spike was grappling with a vampire who, judging by his outfit, looked like he'd been turned in the mid-80s. What was with vampires and their inability to update, anyway? With a loud growl, Spike twisted his leg and caught the vampire around the ankles, sending the creature sprawling on his back. A quick jab of a well-placed stake, and it was all over but the clean up -- literally. Buffy frowned and wiped at the crusted mud on her skirt while Spike collected his stake, a huge grin on his face.

"Not bad for a night's work, eh Slayer?"

Buffy regarded him sourly, and he wilted slightly. "I like a good fight as much as the next girl, but...did it have to be on date night?"

Spike shrugged. "So we'll be a bit late. Not a big deal." Buffy glared at him, gesturing silently to her muddy skirt, torn jacket and ruined boots. "Ah," he said sheepishly. "Well, I suppose this means we'll have to stay in. I can think of a few other activities which you won't need those clothes for." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Buffy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"It's the principle of the matter," she said sternly. "This is the third outfit I've lost in the last month."

"Can't say as I remember any other major fights," Spike said with a frown. "Unless you've been holding out on me, that is."

Buffy smiled sweetly, but with a hint of an edge. "Sweetie? That's because you ruined the other two."

Spike's eyes brightened with appreciative lust. "Oh yeah, that's right. Didn't hear you complaining at the time."

Buffy rolled her eyes and hooked her arm in his, dragging him towards the entrance of the alley. "Come on," she grumbled. "Let's head home. Wait a second." She pulled Spike to a stop and pointed. "Fix your face." He looked confused for a second, then let his features smooth out until he was once again wearing his human mask. Buffy nodded in satisfaction and led them onto the main street. "So where did those vamps come from anyway?" she asked. "I don't remember hearing about a new group in town. Did London suddenly get a Hellmouth and nobody told me?"

"Don't know," Spike said. "But you have to admit, it was a pretty fantastic fight, dirt and all." He elbowed Buffy in the side and she squirmed away from him, trying to hide her grin. "Come on, Slayer. That was bloody wonderful, and you know it."

"I know nothing of the sort," Buffy said primly. "Except I know that I should probably talk to Giles, figure out what's the what. It's a good thing he's in town."

"But later, though?"

Buffy nodded forcefully. "Much later, after a very long bath. I'm thinking tomorrow."

"Right," Spike nodded, slinging his arm around her shoulders and tugging her against him, heedless of the mud that covered both of them. "Home it is."

This time Buffy didn't bother to hide her grin, although she did cringe a bit at the pitying look that a passing couple gave them. What did they know anyway?

Even three years after closing the Sunnydale Hellmouth, she wasn't used to this whole normal life thing. Of course, that would probably have something to do with the fact that, by all traditional standards, her life still wasn't even remotely normal. Even in non-Hellmouthy London, demons and vampires seemed to pop up with alarming frequency. And sure, there were usually a couple of other Slayers in town at any given time (although fewer now that Giles had been working to establish a new training center near the Cleveland Hellmouth), but this city was officially hers. She still patrolled, but gone were the days when the fate of the entire world was on her shoulders. As the unofficial "head Slayer", she was still first in line for any apocalypse, but she wasn't alone any more.

It was as normal as her life was ever going to get, and she couldn't be happier.

There were still nights where she woke up in a cold sweat with the fear that there was _something_ important she'd forgotten to do, that someone out there needed her and she was letting them down. After so many years of her calling weighing on her conscience, she still wasn't used to the idea of being able to go to sleep at night and know that there were other Chosen Ones out there. She still felt responsible for them, to some extent, but it was a relief knowing that both her gifts and her burdens were shared among many. And so, on occasion, Buffy would wake up in a panic for a few seconds, until she remembered where she was. Of course, she then had to deal with the secondary shock of, _Gah, there's a vampire in my bed!_

She clearly still had to get used to sharing a bed with Spike.

She still had to get used to sharing _everything_ with Spike, which...okay, granted, it had been a while since her last serious boyfriend. But this was the first time she'd progressed as far as the whole cohabitation thing, and it still seemed shiny and new. It was odd to wake up and always have him there, to trip over him on the way to the bathroom, to fight with him over the remote and yell at him for leaving his clothes all over the floor. And Spike? His sneering comment about "old marrieds" aside, he took their sudden domesticity like a duck to water. At the beginning she had wondered if the whole thing would just end up being weird and awkward, or if they were just too different to stay together for long. But after they had survived a couple of spectacularly impressive fights, she had begun to finally relax and settle into things: Still Life With Vampire, except not so much with the still part. Naturally, there were the occasional moments when she couldn't stand him, and she was sure the feeling was mutual, but she wouldn't trade her life for anything. She was happy, happier than she'd ever thought she'd be, with a deep, quiet joy that bubbled up at the oddest times.

It was strange, really. There were all of these little details about Spike that she was still discovering: like the fact that he was a total bed-hog, or that he organized his CDs by color, or that he chewed his nails when she wouldn't let him smoke in the flat. Every once in a while, usually when she was in the middle of something completely mundane like taking out the trash, it would hit her: _I'm with Spike. Spike and Buffy, sitting in a tree. We're together, and we haven't killed each other, and the world hasn't ended. And I love him._ And then she would have to stop and pinch herself just to make sure.

Those moments still arose on occasion, like, for example, when she was walking the streets of London with her vampire boyfriend, tired and filthy and sore from demon-slaying.

"You're the One."

Buffy gave an _eep!_ of surprise, stumbling on her broken heel and spinning to face the woman who had suddenly appeared next to her as if out of thin air. She settled into a defensive stance, one foot back and hands lightly clenched into fists, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Spike do the same.

"Hey, that was a neat trick!" she said brightly. "Wanna see me do one?" She stepped forward and watched in satisfaction as the mystery woman took a step back, hands raised defensively. Oh, yeah. She still had it.

"Hang on there, Slayer. I'm not here to hurt you." The woman glanced back and forth between Spike and Buffy, shaking her head. "Not that I could, really. I'm not exactly cut out for fighting. I'm here to help you."

"You're a demon," Spike interjected, nostrils flaring as he inhaled. The woman shrugged.

"Most of the best people are," she said, straightening her hair self-consciously. "Do I look okay? I haven't really done that before."

"Huh?" Buffy said articulately. "I mean, yeah. You look fine." And she did look fine, for someone who appeared to be a normal forty year old soccer mom. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a light jacket, and she was neither particularly attractive nor unattractive. And she seemed completely human; if Spike hadn't said something, Buffy would never have known that she was a demon. She looked aggressively ordinary, if such a thing was possible -- middle height, average build, nondescript hair -- the type of woman you'd pass on the street everyday and not give a second glance.

"I'm Smith," the woman said, holding out her hand, and Buffy bit back a smile as she warily exchanged a handshake. For a demon, Smith made the most boring human she'd ever seen. "I'm a messenger from the Powers. I believe you've met one of my counterparts."

Buffy's eyes widened. "You mean Whistler?" Well, she had to give props to the Powers. It seemed they'd made some improvements in the whole interacting with humanity thing. There was something inherently more trustworthy about somebody who looked like someone's mom than about a shady-looking guy in a horrible hat. Of course, that just put Buffy even more on her guard. The woman beamed.

"Yes! Not that I really know him personally, but we work in the same office. And you're the Slayer. It's an honor to meet you. You've been the talk of the division for years now. You've made quite a stir up there, young lady." She smiled warmly, and Buffy couldn't help thawing slightly.

"Well, that's what I do," she said, exchanging a glance with Spike, who shrugged slightly. "You said you were here to help me?"

The woman nodded, then gestured toward her jacket. "Mind if I get something out? I brought something for you, and I don't want to be jumped." Buffy nodded, straightening her stance slightly in preparation for the unexpected, and Smith reached into her jacket and drew out a small bundle wrapped in linen cloth. She cleared her throat and took on a more formal tone. "This weapon is for the Slayer, to be used in a time of great danger against the powers of darkness. It has been foretold."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Oh, good. Another apocalypse? And this one comes with a nifty prophecy too. Those are always the best kind." Taking the bundle, she unrolled the cloth to reveal a dagger, its worn handle intricately carved with symbols that had been almost erased by the passage of time. Buffy glanced at Spike again, and he frowned and shook his head. He didn't recognize it either, which made her feel slightly better. She'd fallen behind in her study of ancient weaponry. "Uh...thank you?"

The woman nodded gravely. "Use it well, Slayer. It has been foretold that the One and her vampire champion, destined as soulmates, would wield the weapon in the cause of light, bringing about the dawn of a new...." Smith broke off suddenly, staring at Spike in confusion as if she'd just now taken notice of him. "William the Bloody?"

"Yeah," Spike said slowly. "What of it? We've met before?"

The woman shook her head, flustered, then dug in the pockets of her jeans and extracted a slip of paper. She read it with a frown. "I don't know what to say," she admitted, blinking rapidly. "This is...unexpected."

Buffy frowned when no more information appeared to be forthcoming. "Unexpected? What's unexpected? What's going on with the big apocalypse?"

The woman shoved the paper back in her pockets and winced slightly. "There appears to have been a mistake. I'll have to consult with my superiors. The weapon is yours, Slayer, no question about that, but this one?" She gestured to Spike, who was glowering at her now. "This is not the vampire of prophecy."

**********

It was a quiet walk home.

Smith had vanished as quickly as she'd appeared, muttering something about how shoddy the research department was and how this meant more overtime, and leaving the dagger behind. Spike gave the thing a disgusted glance and started walking down the street, and Buffy was left to catch up to him as quickly as she could.

"Spike! Spike...wait!"

With a grimace of disgust, Buffy reached down and wrenched the heel off her unbroken shoe. They were ruined anyway; why not go for broke and allow herself some small comfort? Spike was nearing the end of the block by the time she was finished with her footwear issues, and she reached out to catch him arm.

"Should probably get that knife to Giles, let him take a look at it," he muttered. His muscles were tight under her hand, and he wasn't looking at her. Buffy felt a small flutter of panic. The night had started off so well, and it looked like everything had fallen apart. _Not now, please...._

"Spike," she said quietly, "let's talk about this. Look, I know what she said, but it probably isn't..."

He wheeled around, dislodging her hand from his arm. "Probably isn't what? The truth?" He pursed his lips in a self-deprecating sneer, shaking his head in disgust. "It's the same old song, one I got tired of singing a long time ago."

"Look, would you just..."

"Leave it," he barked, turning and marching off down the street without her. "Maybe you should let _him_ know that it's time to be a hero again."

Buffy cast a baleful look at his disappearing back and followed, seething. Fine. He wanted to act like a jealous three year old? She'd let him. She was more than half tempted to go find Giles right then and let Spike find his own way home, but she decided against it. Giles could wait until tomorrow. She needed to clear her head a bit before she went to see him.

This was...wow. Okay, first things first: apocalypse coming. She could deal with that. After all, how many had she been through at this point? It was the other part that had her so unsettled. _Vampire champion...destined as soulmates...this is not the vampire..._ Her brain was stuck in some kind of feedback loop, and she was having a hard time hearing through the buzzing in her ears. She couldn't think straight. Did this mean that Spike wasn't...and she wasn't...no. No, it didn't mean what she thought it did. There must have been some kind of mistake, they were wrong, she couldn't accept this, and oh _god_ could her brain give it a rest for two seconds? Why did this have to happen now, right when she had been so happy?

In the meantime, Spike was getting further and further away from her, and she struggled to catch up in her ruined boots. By the time she reached the flat, he'd already disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Buffy hesitated to follow him, and eventually settled on the couch and started idly flicking through the channels. She didn't think she could deal with a fight right now, not when she still felt so confused and unsettled.

Two hours later she woke up, her neck stiff and her cheek laced with drool from her impromptu nap. It took her a second to get her bearings and realize that she was still on the couch, the TV playing in the background and casting flicking shadows around the darkened flat. Her bedroom door was still closed, and Buffy felt a rush of hurt that Spike hadn't been out to find her or bring her into bed. It was tempting to just stay and sleep on the couch -- it was certainly easier than trying to deal with things while they were both exhausted -- but she rejected the idea. She was an adult, damn it, and she needed to act like one, even if she was the only one who did.

Spike was curled up into a small lump on what was nominally his own side of the bed. Nominally, because on a normal night he tended to appropriate most of the available space in one massive sprawl. This time, however, his back was to the room, leaving most of the bed empty. Buffy didn't know whether to feel pleased that he'd saved space for her or hurt at his seeming indifference as to whether or not she shared his bed.

"Spike?"

Not so much as a twitch, which honestly didn't mean much. He could be sleeping, or he could be sulking. Buffy sighed and peeled off her clothes, hesitating when she automatically reached for the nightshirt she usually wore. London nights were usually too chilly to sleep without one, especially sharing a bed with someone who generated no body heat. Tonight, though, the shirt felt like another barrier between the two of them. Buffy abandoned her clothes and slid in between the sheets.

Spike still hadn't moved, and Buffy hesitated before sliding forward to lay behind him. After a moment's pause, she slid her arm around his waist and cuddled up to him, the cool flesh of his back stimulating her soft nipples and leaving goosebumps on the sensitive skin of her breasts. He stirred slightly, and she smiled. Definitely awake now.

For several long moments she contented herself with running her hand over his chest, smoothing her way down to his stomach and brushing her fingers over the curves of his skin. He did nothing to encourage her, and she was starting to wonder if he'd gone back to sleep. After a time she moved her hand lower and curved it around the soft length of his cock, fondling him gently. He stayed soft, and she blinked hard against a sudden irrational rush of tears. It was her, wasn't it? Everything had been going so perfectly and she'd ruined it somehow, even if it was just by being the subject of yet another stupid prophecy.

Buffy let out a shaky sigh and released him, resting her hand against his belly again. It was so hard to hold herself in stillness like this when everything in her was screaming to get up, run out and kill something. But she had decided that this was something she needed to do, and so she stayed there, holding tight to the silent vampire in front of her. Her throat was tight and sore from holding back her tears, but she refused to let them fall. Closing her eyes, she pressed a soft kiss to the back of Spike's neck.

"I love you," she whispered.

For a long moment there was no response, and Buffy's fight-or-flight instinct was about to take over, maturity be damned. Then Spike caught her hand in his, lacing their fingers together and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. She squeezed back, a few tears escaping from the edges of her closed eyes. Resting her hot forehead against the smooth skin of his back, she let the rest of the night pass in silence.

**********

Buffy arrived at Giles's office bright and early the next morning. After the last near-sleepless night, she was ready for some answers, and she didn't care who she had to bother to get them. Giles looked up as she entered his office without knocking and tossed the dagger onto his desk.

"Well, hello to you too," he said dryly. "Do come in. Why yes, I did had a pleasant flight. It was so nice of you to ask."

"Answers, Giles," Buffy said, her voice deadly serious. "Looks like there's another apocalypse in town, and the Powers that Be even sent me a present for this one." She nodded toward the dagger, and Giles picked it up and examined it curiously.

"It's certainly very old," he said, and Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, I got that one all on my own. What is it, and what does it have to do with me?"

Giles blinked at her, a small frown line forming between his eyes, but he bent over the dagger again. "These markings seem to be a form of...proto-Urdu, perhaps? There's certainly something familiar about it. I'm sure I'll be able to tell you more after I've had a chance to look through my books.

"Good," Buffy said brusquely. "Keep me informed." She was halfway out of the office when Giles's voice stopped her.

"Buffy?" he asked. "I'd like to have a little more information, if possible. Where did this come from, and how do you know that the Powers meant it for you?"

Buffy tightened her jaw and stared at the floor. "There was a woman -- well, she looked like a woman. A demon of some kind. She gave me the knife, told me an apocalypse was on the way, then disappeared. End of story."

"I see," Giles said slowly. He let the knife drop back onto his desk and regarded Buffy with the same impenetrable expression he'd used on her for the last ten years. She began to squirm under his scrutiny. "Is that all?" he asked gently. "We've faced this sort of thing before, you know."

Buffy blinked rapidly, ridiculously close to tears for the second time in twenty-four hours. "It's just this...thing." Sighing heavily at Giles's look of confusion, she collapsed into the spare chair he kept on the other side of the desk. "It's about Spike." And she told him everything that the strange woman had said, her eyes fixed on the desk the entire time. She was too nervous to look him in the eyes, afraid to see an _I-told-you-so_ look of satisfaction. She couldn't stand that, not now.

"Your soulmate," Giles said. It wasn't a question, and she held her breath. "And you said that she was definitely _not_ talking about Spike. Do you think she meant An...."

"I don't know!" Buffy launched herself out of the chair and began pacing the room, her hands tightly clenched into fists. "I don't know what she meant, or who. I don't know what this means." She could hear voice getting shaky, and she wiped angrily at her watering eyes. "This is not fair. After everything I've done for them, after everything I've been through...Giles, I've been so happy." She knew she was starting to sound more like a little girl and less like the woman who'd become the leader to dozens of Slayers worldwide. She bit her tongue before she could embarrass herself any more, wrapping her arms defensively around herself. The room was silent for a long moment, and then she heard the leather of Giles's chair creak as he stood up.

"And what does Spike have to say about this?" he asked. Buffy gave a lopsided shrug, just the merest lift of one shoulder, and he sighed. "I see." Buffy braced herself for the lecture she knew was coming, but he merely sighed again and settled himself against the desk. "Well, as much as I am loath to give you relationship advice, perhaps you might consider talking to him."

Buffy frowned. "It's not quite that simple."

"I'm sure it isn't," he said gently. "Buffy, I'm not sure what to tell you. Prophecies -- if this is indeed a true prophecy -- can be fulfilled in unexpected ways. It may mean exactly what you fear it means, and on the other hand it may mean something quite different. Only time will tell. In the matter of your romantic destiny, I'm afraid you're on the same page as the rest of humanity." There was a note of humor in his voice, and Buffy looked up in surprise. "Besides," he said, his eyes warm and amused, "the Slayer I know has a bit of a habit of turning prophecies on their heads."

Buffy froze in sudden awareness. He was right. God, she had been so stupid, letting herself get all mixed up and confused. How had she not seen it before? She knew what she had to do to fix things. Without another word, she threw Giles a quick grin and bolted from the office, running at full speed towards her flat.

She had a little vampire problem to deal with.

**********

Buffy threw open the door to the flat and ran in, colliding with Spike and nearly sending them both to the floor. As they untangled themselves, Buffy caught sight of the duster Spike was wearing and narrowed her eyes.

"You were leaving." It wasn't a question, and Spike flinched slightly before stiffening his back and nodding.

"I was."

Buffy gaped at him, and suddenly it was too much. The stress from the previous evening had caught up to her, and her face crumpled as the tears finally came. "You know what?" she seethed. "Fine. Go! I can't believe I expected you to stay and deal with this like an adult."

Spike pointed a shaking finger at the front door. "Yeah, well I'm not the one who left first, sweetheart!"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I was talking to Giles, you idiot! Did you even read the note? You didn't, did you?" Shoving past him, she barreled into the tiny kitchen and ripped the note she'd left off of the microwave. She threw it at him, and it crumpled to the ground like a dead leaf. "I was off getting answers. What's your excuse? Were you even going to tell me?"

Spike slammed his fist against the wall, denting the plaster. "What am I, on a leash? I come and go as I please, Slayer."

Buffy nodded, the urge to fight suddenly gone. 

_Stillness. Stillness._

She swallowed hard. "Were you coming back?" she asked carefully.

_Hold yourself in stillness, the first rule of the warrior._ Her heart ached.

Spike blinked incredulously, deflated. "Was I...." He shook his head. "Are you mad? Of course I was coming back, you daft bint! I just needed a walk to clear my head, and seeing as how there's no sun out today...." He hardened his gaze. "How can you even ask me that?" he demanded. "After everything we've been through, how could you think that I'd...."

"I don't know!" Buffy burst out. "Look, everything's so weird right now, and I know you have this whole big issue about prophecies, and...." She stopped, befuddled, as he began to laugh. There was a bit of a hard edge behind it.

"Oh, please," he scoffed. "I couldn't give a shit what some two-bit Powers have planned anyway."

"Yes, you do," Buffy said softly.

"Do what?"

"Care. You care about the prophecy, just like you cared about the one with the shoes. What was it called?"

Spike's face softened slightly as his mouth quirked in a smile. "Shanshu, love. And that all turned out to be a bunch of nonsense anyway, I'll have you know, given that the both of us have managed to retain our undead status."

"You still cared," Buffy insisted. "And I care about prophecies too. You want to know why? Because after my first one I ended up dead. It's not something I'm really anxious to repeat."

Spike stepped closer and frowned. "Did you find something out about this apocalypse?"

"No," Buffy admitted. "Not yet. Giles is working on it. But I did learn something else, something about the second part of that prophecy."

Spike's lips tightened and he turned away. "You mean the vampire champion, the one I'm not. Your soulmate, or some such rot." He gave her a defiant look, but Buffy could easily see the cracks in his foundation. "I guess that means Angel's your destiny after all." He spit out the name as if it burned him.

"No," Buffy said calmly, shaking her head.

Spike cocked his head curiously. "No? What's it mean, then?"

"It means that I've discovered who my soulmate is. You were supposed to turn Riley into a vampire."

A beat.

And then they were both on the floor, howling with laughter while the tears ran down their faces. Buffy ended up with her head in Spike's lap, clutching her stomach while she gasped for breath.

"Oh, is that all?" Spike croaked. "No worries, love. Just say the word, and I'll scout out his hiding place and get right on that. After all, we've got an apocalypse to stop!"

And they were off again, the laughter a surgical lance to the pain and heartache of the previous night. By the time they finally calmed again, they were cuddled on the hard tile floor. Buffy held Spike's hand, playing with his fingers.

"Seriously though," she said. "I need to tell you what I found out."

Spike heaved a sigh. "Right then," he said heavily. "Let's have it."

"Okay," Buffy said. "Here's the thing about prophecies and soulmates and all that crap." She caught Spike's gaze, making sure he was looking at her. "It doesn't matter."

"Is that right?" Spike asked. "As simple as that?"

"Yup," Buffy nodded. "Giles was telling me about how vague prophecies are, like I didn't already know that, thank you very much. And he was saying how it could mean one thing, or it could end up meaning the exact opposite. You can't tell. And I was all worried, wondering how to change the prophecy, or how to make it fit the way I wanted to. And then I realized something. See, the Powers can mess around with life and death, but they can't change who I am. They can't change my heart." Lifting her head, she pressed a soft kiss to Spike's mouth. "You're in my heart, Spike. The Powers can't control my heart, and they can't mess with my free will. I'm with _you_ , not because of some stupid prophecy, or to stop an apocalypse, but because I choose to. It's my choice, and that's more powerful than any prophecy in the world."

Spike's eyes fluttered closed, and he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. For several long minutes they lay together in stillness, content to just be there together. 

"You're a bloody amazing woman, Buffy Summers," Spike finally muttered. He trailed his lips along the skin of her cheek, stopping to drop soft kisses on her eyes, her nose, the corner of her mouth. "Thank you, beloved," he whispered, and Buffy shuddered at the pet name that was still the sweetest sound to her ears. With a moan, she captured his mouth and let nature take its course.

It wasn't the first time they'd had sex in the kitchen -- and the tile floor hadn't gotten any more comfortable, even for a vampire and a Slayer -- but the raw earthiness of their setting made the whole thing incredibly erotic. Spike knelt on the floor, resting back on his heels, and held Buffy against the counters while he thrust into her. The knobs of the drawers were digging into her back and her head hit the counter with every thrust, but she was too happy to want to move. She held onto his shoulders with one hand and fingered her nipples with the other, staring at Spike's face while he gazed down at where their bodies were joined.

"I'm here," she whispered, her eyes locked on his as she rode him, her sweaty body sliding slickly over his. "I'm here," she repeated, the words torn out of her in gasps as she let him slam her body against the row of counters. "I'm here," she gasped as her body shook in release and Spike pulled her tightly against him before burying his face in her shoulder with a loud moan.

An hour later, and the tile floor seemed to be getting harder and harder.

"Ow," Buffy complained good-naturedly.

"Hmmm," Spike purred, nuzzling the valley between her breasts. "I hope that's the good kind of ow."

"I think I'm numb down there," Buffy admitted sheepishly. "I was thinking more in an, 'Ow, my back, my back,' sort of way."

"Huh," Spike mused. "I suppose that means we should move."

"Probably," Buffy agreed, snuggling closer to him and making absolutely no effort to get up. They were just getting nicely started on round two when there was a knock at the front door.

"Leave it," Spike growled, laving the underside of her breast with his tongue, but Buffy reluctantly pushed him away.

"It could be important," she groaned, pulling her pants back on and looking around frantically for her bra before giving up and shrugging on Spike's t-shirt. "Come on, make yourself presentable," she called, walking towards the front door. "I'll get rid of them as soon as possible, and then we can go back to doing...Giles!" She had flung open the door right before the last word, and stared in shock at the sight of her Watcher with his hand raised to knock again. "Uh, hi!" she said brightly. "Would you like to come in?"

Giles cast a dubious glance at the flat and stepped inside gingerly. Of course, Spike chose that moment to walk out of the kitchen, shirtless and barefoot, his pants partially unfastened. He had total post-sex hair, and he was sporting a new set of hickeys on the side of his neck. Buffy cringed.

"Rupert!" he said jovially. "Long time, and all that. Care for a spot of tea?"

"Yes, tea!" Buffy said in a rush. "We were just...um...making tea. And doing absolutely nothing else."

"Yes, I'm glad to hear it," Giles muttered. "And I'd thank you not to bring it up again. I was just coming by with some information I've uncovered about your recently acquired dagger and this new apocalypse." He dumped several books and a stack of photocopied papers on the small table that stood opposite the sofa.

"Wow, fast service," Buffy said. "Why didn't you call? I would have come down."

"I did," Giles said pointedly. "It seems your phone was off the hook."

Oh, God. Buffy vaguely remembered knocking into the damn thing during their most recent sexcapades. She cringed for the second time, wondering vaguely when she'd manage to grow up enough to stop being embarrassed at the idea that Giles knew she was having sex. "Uh, thanks," she stuttered. "I'll get right on it."

Giles nodded. "Now, about the other matter we discussed, relating to the, er, champion." Out of the corner of her eye, Buffy saw Spike stiffen. Giles drew a folded slip of paper out of his pocket and handed it over. "I was unable to uncover any relevant information relating to that portion of the prophecy. However, I do have a lead on a source that might be able to give you the information you're looking for, if you're interested." He cleared his throat and gestured to the stack of books. "In the meantime, I believe we have more than enough work to do. I'll be examining several more volumes back at my office. If you'd like to meet me there later this afternoon, we can compare notes and discuss options."

Buffy nodded. "Thanks," she said quietly, fingering the slip of paper and giving Giles a small smile. She closed the door behind him as he left, then turned to face Spike. He hadn't moved, and was staring at the paper as if it was a snake.

"Hey," she said, and Spike blinked and looked at her.

"Well," he said heavily. "I guess you've got some answers."

Buffy shrugged and walked over to him, tucking the paper into his rear pocket. "I told you," she said. "I already have all the answers I'm looking for." And without another word she led Spike into the bathroom, watching in satisfaction as he tore the piece of paper into little shreds and dumped them in the toilet. Buffy pressed the flush, and together they watched the tiny scraps disappear.

"So that's that," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "You sure you didn't want to know? It could have led you to your destiny, whatever that is."

Buffy shook her head, letting Spike follow her back into the living room where she collapsed on the couch. "I make my own destiny," she said, settling in comfortably next to him. "And this is it. No fairy tales, no prince charming, no happily ever after."

"You sure about that last one?" Spike asked with a suggestive leer.

"Stop it," she fussed, slapping his grabby fingers away. "I'm trying to make a point here. And the point is...I'm Buffy, and you're Spike, and we're here because we choose to be. And in the end, that's all that matters. We don't need a supernatural seal of approval. We've got everything we need right here."

"Right you are," Spike said with a contented sigh, resting his chin against the top of her head. "Here we are."

"Yup," Buffy agreed. "Right here."

And it was good.


End file.
